


The Garden Party

by OllyJay



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 06:46:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13429101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OllyJay/pseuds/OllyJay
Summary: Phryne makes an unexpected discovery at a Garden Party and confronts it with her normal vigour.Happy Birthday MissingMissFisher! ❤️ Here is somethinglight and fluffyslightly angsty ; ) - I hope you enjoy it. ❤️ Wishing you the very best of days surrounded by friends and family ❤️





	The Garden Party

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MissingMissFisher (bokchoynomad)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bokchoynomad/gifts).



> It appears I am culturally unable to think the phrase 'Garden Party' without also thinking of Katherine Mansfield - LOL 
> 
> My re-read of her 1921 short story of a day in the life of an upper middle class family from Wellington in the early 1900's, resulted in me stealing her description of the perfect day for a garden party - because it is exactly right ❤️

Phryne watched him mingle with the group gathered in the garden. _It was the perfect day for a garden-party, windless, warm, the sky without a cloud._ He stopped to chat with everyone, friendly, smiling, relaxed. When the hostess approached, he held out his hand for hers by way of greeting and somehow forgot to let it go. Phryne wasn’t the only person to note the ease and familiarity that existed between them as they stood, hand in hand, chatting and laughing. Uncharacteristically she felt a pang of jealousy; in the six months that they had been seeing each other she had never seen him like this. She turned back to the task at hand, unpacking the basket of baked goods that Mr Butler and Dot had prepared as her contribution. 

“Do you need help, Phryne?” a gentle voice asked not long after.

Phryne tried not to let the hurt show in her voice as she replied, “No thank you. I’m almost finished.”

To her chagrin, Rosie didn’t withdraw but instead moved to stand on the opposite side of the basket, beginning to help anyway. They worked in silence… until Phryne could take it no longer. “You didn’t mention that Jack was invited,” she pointed out, hoping it didn’t sound too much like an accusation, but guessing it did.

“Oh,” the manner in which this was said made it clear that Rosie had just realised what the problem was. “I didn’t invite him, not as such… he has an open invitation to come around whenever he likes.”

“Oh,” the manner in which this was said was clearly surprise.

“I’m sorry, has he never mentioned it?” Rosie’s tone was neutral. Her relationship with Phryne was still tenuous and slightly uncomfortable for them both. She admired the woman in many ways and was truly grateful for the help which she and her Aunt were giving to ensure that she was not shunned socially but the relationship with her ex-husband was not something that she approved of. For Jack’s sake.

Phryne thought for a moment. She had known, or maybe guessed, that he visited her. “You are one of the most important people in his life. I would think less of him if he was the sort of man to walk away from someone he loves.”

Rosie froze, surprised by the honesty of the statement. “And I feel the same way towards him. But if that’s not what is bothering you, what is?”

“I watched him walking around the garden, chatting with people. He seems so comfortable here.”

“It was our home for years, Phryne. We bought it as newlyweds, when it was a wreck, and spent what feels like a lifetime repairing and decorating it. He laid out that garden, every part of it planted with his own hands. He still comes around and cares for it. I’ll wake up some mornings to find him shuffling around before he heads to work. He comes over after work sometimes too and, I swear if I didn’t go drag him out, he’d stay there till sun rise.” She decided not to mention the nights he spent in the spare room, when he worked in the garden so late there was no point going home.

Phryne was stunned. “I didn’t know that,” she admitted.

Rosie shrugged, “You know what he’s like, when things are difficult at work or if he can’t figure something out he needs to focus on something else completely.”

And there it was - that was exactly what Phryne didn’t know. Since they had returned from England they had mixed pleasure with their investigations - after a celebratory drink he would stay overnight, or even during an investigation if the mood took them. But he had never just turned up at her house. It wasn’t that he waited for an invitation… or maybe he did? It was only now that she realised, he had never once come to Wardlow seeking comfort from her after a hard day, never just to sit of an evening, never sought her out to share anything outside an investigation. It was a stunning revelation. How had she never seen it before?

“Phryne?” Rosie’s voice had a hint of concern.

Phryne realised she was standing stock still. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound petty, it’s just I saw you together earlier. Do you know that you were holding hands?”

Rosie’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, Phryne - I am so sorry. I didn’t even think. It doesn’t mean anything… we’re not…”

Phryne waved her hand to stop her. “I know, that’s not what I mean. But you have to be close to someone don’t you, to feel that at ease that you hold hands without thinking?”

“What do you mean?”

“He talks to you about his day and his thoughts - doesn’t he?”

Rosie nodded, worried where this was going. Whilst she wouldn’t have picked Phryne for Jack, she equally would not do anything to jeopardise the relationship he chose. After all, her own choice had been spectacularly disasterous.

“Does it surprise you to know that he only talks about our investigations with me?”

Rosie did look surprised. “Why?”

Phryne put the last of the offerings on the table. “I don’t know but I intend to find out,” she said with determination.

Rosie tilted her head, clearly considering her next words carefully. Jack had been unsettled since he had returned from England, she had a new vegetable garden to prove it and she knew it wasn’t because of work. “Can I ask you a question?”

Phryne nodded.

“Does Jack even know you’re here?”

Phryne shook her head.

“Then, maybe he’s not the only one that isn’t sharing.”

* * *

She waited until he was standing alone, inspecting the flawless yellow rose on the bush that he had given her for an anniversary gift years ago. She joined him in his contemplation. “Beautiful isn’t it? It’s my favourite because it reminds me how much in love we once were - young and foolish but oh, so very much in love.”

He smiled at her, always glad to know not all memories of their time together were tinged with sadness.

“Your Miss Fisher is here by the way,” she said nonchalantly.

He looked worried, “Is she? Has she seen me?”

“As a matter of fact she has.”

“Bugger. No chance of me slipping out then?”

“Not a hope,” she confirmed.

He stood looking uncomfortable.

“What is it?” she asked. “Why is this a problem?”

“It isn’t… it’s just what we have, Phryne and I…” he struggled to find the words and also to deal with the discomfort of discussing one lover with another, “...it’s not a social thing. It’s just investigations and… sex,” he finished weakly, blushing.

Rosie gave him a look.

“What?” he asked.

“You never lied to me, Jack. In all that time you never lied. Why are you lying to me now?” she asked.

“I’m not,” he stuttered, “I meant… it’s just investigations and sex for her.”

“You’re in love with her. I could see that from the first time I saw you together, at father’s.”

He nodded, miserably.

“This isn’t good for you - you know that, don’t you?”

He nodded again.

“If you are in love with someone and they don’t love you back, you need to move on.” She gave him a reassuring smile, “I did.”

“I do love you, I always will,” he protested.

“I know, but not the way you did, before the war.”

“No,” he admitted sadly.

“It isn’t your fault, Jack. It isn’t anyone’s. You didn’t come back the man I was in love with but that doesn’t mean you’re not a good man. You deserve to have someone love you for who you are, not what you were. Or what you think they want you to be.”

His hand found hers and he squeezed it. 

“Have you tried to talk to her?” Rosie asked, already knowing the answer.

“It isn’t her thing, emotional issues reek of dependency. It will make her feel trapped…” he looked at the ground, “and then I’ll lose what little bit I have of her. And I’ll have nothing - again.”

“Oh, Jack,” she said sadly, “you’ll always be welcome here, day or night. To talk or just to sit, silent. But, I think it might be worth asking her - if she wants more. You may be surprised.” Rosie caught a flash of pale blue lurking in the camellias behind him, she paused, letting the silence settle comfortably around them. She had been serious then? Recalling Phryne's ferocious support for Jack when her father had taken him off the case, the thought she would bring that same bloody mindedness to their personal relationship? It gave Rosie a great deal of hope for him. “She’s in the kitchen, why don’t you go and talk to her?”

He turned, lips briefly touching her cheek, released her hand and headed towards the house.

* * *

Leaning in the kitchen doorway, he watched her fussing with the table. In a simple, yet elegant dress, he could tell she was trying to be subtle, not wishing to distract from the hostess. It was a generous attempt, doomed to fail of course but that wasn’t her fault. He also recognised a fair number of the serving dishes, she had brought slightly more than the obligatory plate and he saw it for the sign of nervousness it was. He knew people wondered why he had gotten involved with her. Some assumed he was blinded by her looks, or her money, or both. But it was glimpses like these, of the woman who was so much more than the society facade, that had captivated him. And he decided in that instant - that nothing was worth risking her, so he swallowed the words he had intended to say and replaced them instead with meaningless flirtation.

“Hardly your style, Miss Fisher,” he teased, raising his eyebrows in mock disbelief. Her eyes immediately found his and he saw that she was upset. “I’m sorry,” he said, moving to stand up properly and quickly becoming serious, “I’ve made things difficult by being here. I’ll leave.“ He made to go.

“No!” Her plea was louder than she had intended and when he turned to look at her, there was a slight blush across her cheeks. “Stay. Please? I don’t mean to drive you away from your friends.”

“They’re not my friends,” he corrected her, “they’re Rosie’s. I just happen to know them. I really am sorry, had I known you would be here I would never have dropped in.”

She winced. “Why?”

He tilted his head, “Why, what?”

“Why do you feel you need to leave because I’m here? Why can’t we be here - together?”

He was speechless.

“Why don’t you turn up unexpectedly at Wardlow looking as relaxed and comfortable as you did when you walked in here?”

“I…”

“Why don’t you call around to tell me about your day? Your worries? Your hopes - or just to sit silently with me?”

He shook his head, trying to check whether he was hearing things right. “I… sorry, I honestly didn’t think you would want that,” he admitted.

“Why?” she demanded. “Why do you think that I don’t want to know everything about you? That I wouldn’t be interested? That I wouldn’t want to offer you comfort?”

“I just… I just assumed that that wasn’t what we were.”

She marched across to him, so she was standing far too close, as always. “Well, you are wrong.”

He stared at her, unsure whether he was more happy or more frightened.

She poked him in the chest in time with her words. “You. Are. Wrong. Jack Robinson. Very. Very. Wrong - because that is exactly what we are.”

He rubbed at his chest, where he was sure he would be covered in bruises. “I’m sorry.”

“So you keep saying but I want to know what you intend to do about this misunderstanding.”

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Definitely and strongly and without any doubt. When he released her she stepped back, slightly breathless.

“That wasn’t what I was expecting,” she admitted, “though I’m not complaining,” she added quickly before he could apologise again.

He apologised anyway. “Sorry, what were you expecting?”

“You to say you wanted to share more than just investigation notes and great sex with me.”

“Oh,” he said happily, “that too.”

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks, as always, to solitary_cyclist ❤️❤️❤️


End file.
